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In the late 1980s, singer Bizimungu Diudonne, his wife Agnes Umbibizi, and a backing band of family and friends self-released a visionary cassette, featuring stuttering electric guitars, loping bass lines, and call and response vocals. Their combo of 80s studio wizardry rooted in traditional Rwandan praise songs resulted in hypnotic, extended jams unlike anything else released in East Africa at the time. The lyrics praised the beauty of the countryside and the exploits of the ancient gods. On plaintive acoustic tracks squeezed between the electric bangers, Bizimungu and Agnes called for unity in the divided nation. Their message was an eerie presaging of the coming Rwandan Genocide, which tragically tooke the lives of all members of the group. Bizimungu and Agnes were both killed by Hutu militias in 1994. Their music, popular across the region, was largely forgotten in the ensuing decades. We first heard this album through music scholar Matthew Lavoie in 2018, and spent years looking for any surviving members of the band. Last year, co-producer and Voice of America host Jackson Mvunganyi tracked down Bizimungu and Agnes’ daughter, Noella, in Kigali. Only 8 years old at the time of her parents’ death, she had taken on the task of reintroducing their work to a new generation in Rwanda. Though her family lost almost everything in the genocide, Noella miraculously was left with a CD containing the master recordings of Inzovu Y’imirindi. It is stunning to finally hear this music in its fullness and immediacy, beautifully remastered at Osiris Studios and pressed on the highest quality vinyl at David Rawlings’ Paramount Press. We’re grateful to Noella and our collaborators for helping us share Bizimungu and Agnes’ vital music and message with the world.
If you head north on 1-85 from Hillsborough, NC, and take the exit for 58 East, in fifteen minutes you'll reach Diamond Grove, a small unincorporated area in Brunswick County, Virginia on the Meherrin River. To most eyes, there's not much there—you'll have to drive to Lawrenceville for groceries or to South Hill for hardware. But hidden in this patch of Virginia piedmont are the remnants of a dairy farm established in the 1740s, its main house an old two up, two down beauty still outfitted with rope beds and all. Go there today and you'll hear distant sounds of someone working soybeans and cotton in the leased-out outbuildings, farm-use tires grinding gravel roads, frogs peeping, and chickadees singing out: chick-a-dee, chick-a-dee. But if you happened to pass through in September of 2023, you might've heard fiddle tunes ricocheting off the pines, BBS rattling-to-rest inside empties, and the sounds of Weirs recording their second LP and Dear Life Records debut: Diamond Grove. Weirs is an experimental collective grown out of central North Carolina's music scene—one that is equal parts oldtime and DIY noise. Non-hierarchical in form, past Weirs performances have included anywhere from two to twelve people. In September 2023, nine traveled up US-58 to pack into the living and dining rooms of the dairy farm main house, still in the family of band member and organizer Oliver Child-Lanning, whose relatives have been there for centuries. This Weirs lineup—neither definitive nor precious—includes Child-Lanning; Justin Morris and Libby Rodenbough (his collaborators in Sluice); Evan Morgan, Courtney Werner, and Mike DeVito of Magic Tuber Stringband; and stalwarts Andy McLeod, Alli Rogers, and Oriana Messer who played deep into those late-summer evenings. What resulted are the nine tracks of Diamond Grove, recorded with an ad hoc signal chain assembled from a greater-communitys worth of borrowed gear. The Weirs project began as tape experiments on traditional tunes Child-Lanning made under the name Pluviöse in winter 2019. This evolved into the first Weirs record, Prepare to Meet God, which was self-released in July 2020 and was a collaboration between Child-Lanning and Morris during COVID. The strange conditions of that debut—a communal tradition of live songs recorded apart in isolation—are undone by Diamond Grove, a record rooted in the unrepeatable convergence of people, place, and time. On the new record, Weirs continue their search for how best to forward, uphold, and unshackle so-called "traditional" music. They are songcatchers, gathering tunes on the verge of obscure death. Their wild, centuries-spanning repertoire plays like an avant-call-the-tune session—a kind of Real Book for a scene fluent in porch jams, Big Blood, Amps for Christ, and Jean Ritchie. Weirs catch songs whose interpretive canon still feels ajar—open enough to stand next to but never above those who've sung them before. These aren't attempts at definitive versions. The recordings on Diamond Grove feel like visitations rather than revisions. And the question Weirs asks on this record is not how to simply continue the tradition of their forebears, but how traditional music could sound today. For Weirs, the history of this tradition could be taken less from the folk revival than from musique concréte; less from pristine old master recordings than something like The Shadow Ring if theyd come from the evangelical South. One listen to "(A Still, Small Voice)" and you'll hear the power of the hymn give way to its equal: the floorboards, fire crackle, dinners made and eaten. This tension between preservation and degradation is the inner light of Diamond Grove. Take "Doxology l": the melody of "Old Hundred", a hymn from the Sacred Harp tradition, is converted to MIDI, played through iPhone speakers, and re-recorded in the September air. To some revivalists, this hymn sung with all the glory of fake auto-tuned voices might sound sacreligious. But ears attuned, say, to the hyperpop production of the last few decades will immediately understand the tense beauty of hearing digitallyartifacted shape-note singing. This same tension animates "l Want to Die Easy." Weirs' version draws from A Golden Ring of Gospel's recording, monumentalized in the Folkways collection Sharon Mountain Harmony. The melodies, words, structure are largely unchanged. But the "'pure" clarity of voice in the early recording is gone. In its place, we hear the distancing sound of the dairy farm silo where Weirs recorded their version, its natural two-second reverb replacing pristine proximity. In this way, the sound of the recording site itself becomes equal to the traditional performance. The beating heart of Diamond Grove is Weirs's take on "Lord Bateman," a tune Jean Ritchie called a "big ballad:" played when the chores were done and the night's dancing had stopped. It is an 18th-century song—as old as the Diamond Grove farm—about a captured adventurer, described by Nic Jones as embodying the spirit of an Errol Flynn film. Like many great and often a cappella renditions, this "'Lord Bateman" is voice-forward, foregrounding the gather-round-children importance of yarn spinning. What's new here is the immense drone that transubstantiates the narrative into a ceaseless body of elemental forces. It's an eye-blurring murmur of collective strings that adds to the canon of Ritchie and June Tabor as much as to Pelt's Ayahuasca or Henry Flynt's Hillbilly Tape Music. While Diamond Grove isn't explicitly about the old dairy farm where it was recorded, it can't help but resemble it. Old English ballads like "'Lord Bateman" and "'Lord Randall" spill into fields once 'granted' by the British Crown. Tragic songs like "'Edward" stagger across Tuscarora trails and postbellum cotton rows. Hymns like "'Everlasting l" and "Everlasting Il" catch a moonlight that's been falling through double-hung windows since Lord Bacon's Rebellion. And the nocturnals still trill and plows still till a music uncomposed, waiting for any and all ears to chance upon it. Diamond Grove, in these ways, is history. It is a place. It is time. It is songcatching, liveness, tape manipulation. Like the low-head dam that the word weir implies, it is a defense against the current. It is a defense of regional lexicons against mass-produced vernaculars; a defense against the belief that we can simply return to a simpler time; a defense against the idea that folk music must remain "pure"; a defense against the claim that a dream of the future latent in lost histories is irretrievably lost. Against all that, Diamond Grove defends traditional music by making it sound like the complexity of today—because it knows that such music, and all the histories caught up in it, has a role to play in the days to come.
At the end of the 1980s, Mariolina Zitta approached the world of natural sounds, studying musicology and developing a passion for speleology. Her encounter with Walter Maioli was fundamental, guiding and influencing her definitive research into sound archaeology and the primitive sources of musical acoustic phenomena. In these recordings Mariolina conducts a magical ritual as a cave priestess, celebrating the icons par excellence of the mysteries of the night: bats. The specific frequencies of the calls of these fascinating creatures are recorded with special detectors used by ecologists, the result is an organic synthesizer. The fusion with the sounds of natural objects (stones, stalactites, logs, bone whistles, Tibetan bells, mouth bows, trumpet shells) and the vocal modulations of harmonic singing allow us to travel into a still unexplored sound dimension, through an evocative experience of total sensory listening. It is an arcane landscape filled with pure vibrations, magnetic resonances and aquatic sounds; an ancestral enchantment on the border between consciousness and dreams, a symbolic liturgy of primordial reverberations, echoes and whistles. Edition of 200 copies.
KontaktAudio presents the first-ever official release of the ultra rare and sought after B-Semi Live 24/5/1984 cassette, a rare and explosive document capturing a crucial moment in Japan’s underground noise and industrial music scene. Recorded at the legendary B-Semi venue in Tokyo, this performance brings together three pioneers - Merzbow, Null (K.K. Null), and Nord - delivering a raw, unfiltered onslaught of early Japanese noise music in its most intense form.
This historic recording showcases the primitive power and experimental spirit that defined the early Japanese noise music scene, sitting alongside the abrasive intensity of Whitehouse, the industrial ritualism of SPK, and the mechanical destruction of Throbbing Gristle. A sonic time capsule of Japan’s most groundbreaking sound revolutionaries, B-Semi Live 24/5/1984 is an essential piece of noise history.
Jezgro is proud to present the second release by the almighty god of noise Merzbow. "Torus" is bleak, twisted and uncompromising EP, that has a tendency to disturb and sooth, both at the same time, your inner dark parts and make you question your moral.
Spanish producer and composer Pedro Vian and Japanese noise legend Merzbow join forces once again for A Wheel of Mani, a singular work set to be released exclusively on 12” vinyl on June 4, 2025, via Modern Obscure Music. This collaboration follows in the footsteps of their previous joint effort, Inside Richard Serra Sculptures, released last year, where they explored the intersection of sonic abstraction and dense textural landscapes. With this new release, the two artists push even further into the spiritual and abrasive corners of their sound, merging ethereal atmospheres with the raw intensity of extreme noise, shaped by
glitch techniques and digital experimentation.
The album serves as a meeting point between seemingly opposing sonic worlds, now interwoven in a fascinating synergy. Vian contributes his sensitivity for hypnotic pads and enveloping ambiances, while Merzbow amplifies the experience with his signature saturation and searing textures. The result is a composition of stark contrasts and unexpected harmonies, inviting the listener into a sensory journey where mysticism and chaos coalesce into a singular experience.
The decision to release A Wheel of Mani on vinyl underscores its physicality, emphasizing the tactile experience of sound, where each groove reveals unexplored tonal dimensions. Vian and Merzbow eschew conventional approaches, dissolving boundaries between the ambient and the abrasive, the meditative and the cathartic. This is not an album that seeks easy resolutions but one that thrives within the tension between harmony and noise, where texture takes precedence and time becomes elastic. A work designed as much for deep contemplation as for total immersion in its expansive sonic universe.
A growling, distinctive set of loose-limbed, groove-fwd art rock inversions, Alpha Maid's debut album has been well worth the wait, augmenting post-punk, noise rock and free improv structures with sui generis studio fog and an unparalleled level of no-fucks-given eccentricity. RIYL Dome, Silver Apples, Moin, Klein, Mica Levi, Loop, Still House Plants.
Leisha Thomas has been working almost entirely without fanfare, imagining a sound that's part Black Dice, part Slint and part Klein. 2021's 'CHUCKLE', released on Olan Monk's c.a.n.v.a.s. label, felt sketchy, anarchic and unhinged - at the time, we compared it with Dean Blunt, This Heat, La Timpa and Slint - and 'Is this a queue' plays to Thomas's keenest instincts, darkening idiosyncratic pencil strokes with confident, intentional gestures. In a year where seemingly everyone's attempting the rock-pop pivot, Thomas refines and focuses ideas that have coursed through not just their solo work, but their spresso-branded collaborations with Mica Levi, for years. This is Thomas's record, for sure, and its quirks are only strengthened by collaborations with their wider community of like-minded operatives: Ben Vince, Coby Sey, Valentina Megaletti and Leo Hermitt. Nothing feels cheap or rattled off for clout - if there's an artist featured, you'd better know there's a damn good reason.
Opener '6-9' is irresistibly incongruous, a cheeky false start that de-platforms Thomas's signature guitar sound, fudging crusty environmental recordings and weightless drones into a modish take on Bruce Gilbert and Graham Lewis's subterranean rhythmic experiments. We're on more familiar territory with '2 Numbers', but what starts as a tempo-fluxing slowcore slog is coolly stirred by background whispers and plasticky stabs that sound as if they've been wrenched from Kelis's Neptunes-produced first LP. It's hard to know exactly what Manchester-based Hermitt has contributed to this one, but the track's as poppy as Thomas allows themself to get, nearing the tape-dubbed, lo-fi preciousness of last year's 'Underground Love'. Elsewhere, even when Thomas forms what might be mistaken for a song, it's inevitably deconstructed or skewered; on 'Guarded', their wailed ad libs and chants drift in-and-out of step with grumbly strums and boxy, staggered drums.
"It's been a minute," they echo thru distortion and a heaping spoonful of reverb. And by 'GOAT Rosetta' there's almost nothing left, just feedback, growling distortion and barely discernible words sung into the cavernous expanse. Even the genius 'WHY WE HAVE TO MOVE', that centres Valentina Mageletti's most Danny Taylor turn behind the kit, sounds as if it's about to fray at the edges, with its lysergic, xenharmonic guitar whirrs swamping Thomas's mumbled words and angular improvisations. They melt 'Washing Machine'-era Sonic Youth strums and boss-tuned twangs with similarly skewed AutoTuned moans on the simmering, brilliant 'On Smoke', and on the album's sobering finale 'Palimpsest', Thomas's purposed splatter of guitar noises and lurching beats fall into step with Coby Sey's alert annunciations and Ben Vince's inventive sax drones, forming a ruff outline of London's most fertile nook.
If you've been as bored by this year's "experimental" rock offerings as we have, let 'Is this a queue' restore your faith - it's that good.
In July of 2022, just one month before jaimie branch’s death sent shockwaves around the world, the trumpet player and composer was in Chicago at International Anthem studios putting finishing touches on an album. It was a suite of music she had composed and then recorded with her flagship ensemble, Fly or Die, over the course of a residency at the Bemis Center for Contemporary Arts in Omaha, Nebraska. In her wake, the album was near complete, with only mixing tweaks, final titles, and artwork to be fully realized. In the months following, her family (led by sister Kate Branch), her band (Jason Ajemian, Lester St. Louis, and Chad Taylor), and her collaborators at IARC banded together to gather memories, texts, emails, photographs, artwork and fragments belonging to jaimie to light the path forward. The goal was always to do what jaimie would have done. Packaged in stunning artwork by John Herndon, Damon Locks, and branch herself, Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die ((world war)) is jaimie’s final album with her Fly or Die quartet.
From the album's liner notes, written by jaimie's Fly or Die bandmates:
“jaimie never had small ideas. She always thought big. The minute you told her she couldn’t do something, or that something would be too difficult to accomplish, the more determined and focused she became. And this album is big. Far bigger and more demanding — for us, and for you — than any other Fly or Die record. For this, jaimie wanted to play with longer forms, more modulations, more noise, more singing, and as always, grooves and melodies. She was a dynamic melodicist. jaimie wanted this album to be lush, grand and full of life, just as she was. Every time we take a listen, we feel the deep imprint of her all over the music, and we see all of us making it together.”
For over four decades, Masami Akita, the man behind Merzbow, has remained one of the most singular and uncompromising figures in experimental music. Known as a pioneer of Japanese noise and a tireless sonic innovator, Akita has consistently pushed boundaries, exploring sound not as a vehicle for melody or harmony, but as a raw material to be shaped, sculpted, and sometimes obliterated. His prolific output spans hundreds of releases, each one revealing a different angle of his evolving sonic philosophy — from dense analog textures to intricate digital manipulations.
Originally released on CD in 2003, Animal Magnetism is now receiving a long-overdue vinyl reissue — a deluxe edition that not only revives the album but enhances it. This new edition has been meticulously remastered by Lasse Marhaug, a respected figure in noise and experimental music who brings on vinyl reissue new clarity, weight, and depth to the recordings. Spread across two vinyl LPs and housed in a gatefold sleeve, the reissue replicates the original artwork, including Masami Akita’s own photographs, while also adding a previously unreleased bonus track, “Quiet Comfort #2.”
Animal Magnetism occupies a unique position in Merzbow’s vast catalogue. It is a work that remains firmly rooted in the artist’s signature approach — dense layers of distortion, feedback, and electronic debris — but it also stands out for its sense of structure, variation, and surprising accessibility. It’s an album that, while intense, is not impenetrable. It invites the listener to explore its textures and uncover subtle melodic patterns and rhythmic shifts beneath the surface noise.
The opening title track sets the tone: a chaotic yet strangely hypnotic blend of static, metallic clangs, fractured beats, and synthetic tones. There's a sense of tension throughout — familiar in Merzbow’s work — but here, it builds gradually, revealing layers rather than overwhelming the listener all at once. There’s even the faint outline of something resembling a melody, buried deep beneath the sonic rubble, slowly emerging and fading as the piece unfolds.
What makes Animal Magnetism distinctive is its balance between harsh noise and a more refined, composed sensibility. Where many Merzbow albums plunge into total abstraction, this one maintains a sense of movement and progression. Tracks evolve over time, flowing into one another with a kind of warped continuity. Noise isn’t just a wall here — it breathes, pulses, and shifts form.
One of the album’s highlights, “Quiet Men,” is a surprisingly playful and kinetic track. High-pitched, swirling sounds bounce around in cartoon-like patterns, giving the piece a strange but infectious energy. It’s vivid, bright, and almost whimsical — a striking contrast to Merzbow’s more oppressive works. Yet, it never abandons the core aesthetic of noise: distortion, friction, repetition — only here, it’s presented with a lighter touch, almost like a satire of dance music through a noise lens.
The album’s longest piece, “A Ptarmigan,” stretches to more of twenty minutes and showcases Merzbow’s gift for long-form development. The track shifts dramatically over its runtime — starting with a sense of movement and brightness, before descending into slow, grinding dirges. At one point it feels almost celebratory, the next meditative and ominous. It’s a miniature sonic journey that encapsulates many of the album’s contrasts: playfulness and heaviness, speed and inertia, chaos and control.
Later, “Super Sheep” picks up the pace, with a more aggressive rhythmic drive. While its bass line may evoke familiar electronic or break core structures, Merzbow twists and mutates it into something uniquely his own. The distortion here feels intentional and compositional — not just as an effect, but as a central part of the track’s logic. It’s not chaos for chaos’s sake, but a carefully controlled burn. Another standout, “Pier 39,” veers into ambient territory. Gentle scraping textures, soft frequencies, and minimal movement make it a quiet anomaly in the tracklist — but also a necessary one. It shows how even within the noise genre, Merzbow is capable of creating space and silence, of dialing back the intensity to explore fragility and restraint. The newly added bonus track, “Quiet Comfort #2,” fits seamlessly into the album’s sound world. It serves as both a continuation and a reflection, extending the album’s themes while offering something fresh.
Today, as interest in Merzbow continues to rise — with new generations discovering the depth and breadth of his work — this reissue feels especially timely. It’s a reminder that noise can be complex, emotional, and even, beautiful. Animal Magnetism is not just for seasoned noise fans, but also for adventurous listeners looking for a unique and challenging experience that rewards attention and repeated listening. This edition is a must-have for collectors and newcomers alike: an essential document of an artist who continues to redefine the outer edges of sound.
Valby Vokalgruppe returns with SOLIDS FOR VOICES — a new album landing on 7th November 2025 via Hands in the Dark.
Initiated in 2008 by Anja Jacobsen, the Danish collective’s current line-cup is completed by Lil Lacy, Sonja LaBianca, Cæcilie Trier and Laura Marie Madsen. The group has written and performed a large number of cross-aesthetic pieces over the years, including an album Bah New Era released in 2012 on Eget Værelse.
Sharpened to its core, the group dives deep into rhythmical architectures built almost solely from the voice - think Platonic solids reimagined as sound objects. Think trance without electronics. These new compositions are compressed, sparkling forms — vocal geometries that spin, collide, and dissolve through repetition. From inside the circle: radical precision, soft dissonance, and playful intuition guide the way. The group explores the voice not as melody alone, but as material — vibrating, modulating, refracting.
SOLIDS FOR VOICES transcends into deep concentration calling for a clear state of mind, in recognition of an increasingly fragmented and incoherent reality. Valby Vokalgruppe endeavours a total absorption into the voice, the rhythm and the trance.
Mike Majkowski makes his debut on Hands in the Dark Records with Invisible, a selection of six moody and mysterious pieces produced between 2019 and 2025.
The prolific Australian double bassist and music maker has been involved in a diverse array of contemporary and experimental music since the early 2000s. This time, the Berlin-based artist is venturing deeper into downtempo, meditative and hypnotic minimal electronic realms.
While time and space are constraints, they also define our identities, creating inexplicable bonds with others flowing through shared moments and shared places. The state of being invisible obliterates these confines, allowing one to return to their pure essence. In this setting, Majkowski’s compositions display a discreet and profoundly emotional language characterised by vulnerability, darkness and confusion, while also embodying hope, soothing and resilience. A dim light, transcending love, space, memory and time.
Released in 2016, this album was created primarily using the legendary vintage 1980s Cheetah MS800 synthesizer, showcasing Aphex Twin's signature experimental spirit. Layering retro textures, it weaves thick basslines and uniquely distorted electronics into undulating currents that gradually pull listeners deeper. Its inorganic yet oddly humorous, strangely addictive texture is Aphex Twin's signature sonic magic. A singular classic born from the fusion of vintage gear devotion and futuristic soundscapes.
Following the announcement of his comeback album Syro, Aphex Twin achieved a full-fledged return with two EPs and a revival project under the AFX moniker. This 2018 release features the lead track “T69 Collapse,” which explodes with near-frenetic hyper-speed beats and searing melodies, shocking the world alongside hallucinatory visuals by artist Weirdcore. Throughout the entire album, the complexity of the soundscapes and the precision of the rhythms reach unprecedented levels, where chaos and sensuality, violence and beauty coexist in a delicate balance. This definitive work proves Aphex Twin is a “genius in the making” and further carves out the future of IDM!
La Rumba de mi Vida displays the full extent to which the Congolese band O.K. Jazz and its bandleader Franco explored Congolese rumba in the sixties and early seventies. Each of the four sides on this double LP presents a different facet of O.K. Jazz. The songs presented on this album justify why Franco was (and still is) regarded as the greatest portraitist of Congolese society.
In 1973, the Sound Sculpture Show took place at the Vancouver Art Gallery. An LP audio catalogue (with a booklet) of the exhibition, entitled “The Sounds of Sound Sculpture”, was released in 1975 under the supervision of the Canadian sound sculptor John Grayson and US composer David Rosenboom. Grayson had edited an important early book on the field, “Sound Sculpture”. The LP included rare takes of Rosenboom and Grayson, amongst others, playing famous pieces by pioneering sound sculptors including the Baschet brothers and Harry Bertoia, the latter best known for his Sonambient series. It also included some of the few recordings by Stephan Von Huene, who had begun to create his kinetic sculptures, and the profound atmospheric pressure systems constructed by the New York sound artist David Jacobs. The LP comes complete with a booklet of visually arresting photos and other materials about these historic sound sculptures.
Sound Reporters was a Dutch publishing company that specialised in anthropology, religion, and history, releasing unique documents of the cultural multiplicity of human societies and their importance. These recordings were originally released on cassette in 1988, and consist of field recordings made on the Greek island of Amorgos, part of the Cyclades island group in the Aegean Sea. The release was jointly credited to the painter Harry Van Essen, who lived for several years on the island and recorded its soundscapes, and also to the ethnomusicologist and founder of Sound Reporters, Fred Gales, who mixed the recordings.
The recordings consist of sketched amalgams of local sounds from Egiali, a port in the northeast of the island. The first half is a soundscape deeply rooted in the island people’s daily lives, alternating sounds of the sea with popular music, recitations of poetry, the sounds of fishing boats, people playing boardgames, a party. The second half takes us out of the village and into the mountains, unveiling the island’s unadorned natural environment: the sounds of cicadas, the buzz of honeybees, the bells of the large herds of goats left out to pasture, etc.
funcionário delights in the freedom of creating freeform music for the first time in his career. On “horizonte”, he loosens the reins, his sound follows a wavy, organic structure rather than a rigid, formal one. If it feels freer and more colourful, that’s because it truly is.
Eight years ago, when we first encountered his work, he was composing soundtracks for imaginary video games and crafting sonic landscapes that felt like destinations for sci-fi anime characters. With “Cavalcante” (2022), he broke away from that past. It marked a turning point, he was ready to explore a “fourth world” in both sound and concept. The feedback was overwhelming.
Three years later, “horizonte” marks another evolution. He sends us music regularly, but this album stood out immediately. It felt right: more synth-driven, more open to improvisation. As he put it: “It’s like using oil pastels for the first time and discovering new possibilities. In a way, I’ve found new ways of creating using the same colours.”
Listening to "horizonte" is like waking up from a dream. Again and again. The opening track, “nascer”, suggests a new dawn, but it’s in “pássaros” that the vision fully takes flight: less processed, more raw, yet still detailed and expansive.
Finding new ways with the same colours has been his quiet mission all along. What’s new here aren't the tools, but the feeling. The movement. The invitation to travel with him. You can hear - and feel - his sense of wonder. Every sound radiates joy. Every moment sparks a new thought. The music moves quickly, but breathes slowly.
Tracks like “renascer” and “o caminho do regresso” echo the spirit of late-70s/early-80s Vangelis, in deep reverence. And just as you approach the end, “fantasma” arrives - a stunning closer, reminiscent of Eno’s “An Ending”. By then, it’s clear: the “fourth world” is behind him. funcionário has moved on. To where? We’re about to discover.
"Technically speaking, the word “funcionário” translates to “office worker” or “civil servant,” but in everyday language, it’s not exactly a term of endearment. More often than not, funcionários are viewed as overly rigid clock-watchers, and certainly wouldn’t be celebrated as a reliable source of imagination. Given that, the word makes for an unusual artist moniker, but that didn’t stop Pedro Tavares from adopting it anyways. His new album horizonte is a decidedly low-key affair, yet there’s nothing cold or bureaucratic about it. Primarily dealing in homespun ambient and wavering soundscapes that sound like they’ve been set adrift hundreds of kilometers from the nearest shoreline, the LP peaks with the glimmering tones of “o caminho da estrela,” a song that calmly glides into Fourth World territory and invites everyone in earshot to take a soak in its gentle waters." Shawn Reynaldo at First Floor
A legendary yet long lost crown jewel from the early 80s
Japanese Electronic and Jazz Rock scene.
MARIAH used to be a Japanese outfit in the field of art pop, long way back in the very late 70s and early 80s with 6 albums up
their score from 1979 to 1983. The album at hand is the sixth and for the time being last album in this row, released as a double
vinyl back in 1983. Prices for original copies, that are at least in very good condition, are hard to find and go up to 250 Euro/USD.
The brandnew reissue on Everland, unlike the original and the first vinyl reissue from 2015, comes housed in a thick and artfully
designed gatefold sleeve with OBI, which finally does justice to the progressive spirit of the music you can find here.
The musical basement is a fusion of dreamy synthesizer pop and haunting new wave music, that could be found all around
the globe back in 1983. In the vein of TEARS FOR FEARS or more adventurous DAVID BOWIE stuff, with a touch of KRAFTWERK or
even BRIAN ENO here and there, but all this gets spiced up with an atmosphere of Japanese traditionalism, with a few bits and
pieces from the old music from this Far East island, which sounds so magic us Westeners. The progressive, wacky art pop of this
project was led by the popular Japanese composer and musician Yasuaki Shimizu, a relentlessly exploratory saxophonist who
even dared to rework Johann Sebastian Bach’s cello suites for saxophone.
As brilliant as this man is, the music on „Utakata No Hibi“ turns out to be. And the master himself approved and much
appreciated the brandnew remastering of this album by assisting a highly professional team of sound engineers who dusted off
the ancient tape reels. For certain the record sounds and feels 80s through and through, electronic to the very rhythmical bone
of each song sugar coated with catchy melodies that resemble Japanese classic and Enka music, which is a kind of folksy pop
music. The listener gets directly drawn into a feverish dream of steaming Far Eastern cities and their darkest and most depraved
corners where you find everything cheap in sleazy bars and unlighted backyards and alleys. The next moment he strolls through
a beautiful Japanese park surrounded by a sea of blossoms. This change in mood and style you will experience in the sparsely
instrumented tune „Shisen“, which indeed comes closest to classic Japanese folk tunes without any too catchy and pop oriented
melodies. But we certainly find these harmonies allover the album. Some tunes even feel like ancient BEACH BOYS compositions
and Brian Wilson creations played by a then contemporary electronic pop act and sung in Japanese.
An amazingly colorful album with songs that are based on solid substance rather than cheap pop structures. This is music for
the bold listeners and music lovers and this awesome reissue should quickly find it’s way into the record collections of 80s synth
and art pop aficionadoes.
Yasuaki Shimizu did what he wanted with MARIAH, pushed the borders of popular music further than anybody would have
thought. Listen to a track like „Shonen“ with a repetitive rhythm pattern that hypnotizes you and somehow silky melodylines by
saxophone and synth piano upon which a female voice sings in a very spiritual way. Praising pop or whatever this can be called,
it is sheer magic put in music. I wonder if this would have made it into the charts back then, but you never know. It is a piece of
musical art that shall be listened to.
Makaya McCraven, a leading drummer, composer, and producer in contemporary jazz.
Having gained prominence through his works released by International Anthem, as well as reimagined versions of Gil Scott-Heron and Blue Note recordings, this leading drummer, composer, and producer in contemporary jazz has released a compilation of four EPs titled ‘Off the Record’ through XL Recordings, International Anthem, and Nonesuch. The album features recordings of pure improvisation captured during live performances, with the space and presence of the audience reflected in the sound. It is composed of four EPs—‘Techno Logic,’ 'The People’s Mixtape,‘ 'Hidden Out!,’ and ‘PopUp Shop’—that are independent yet organically interconnected.
This work follows his 2022 masterpiece ‘In These Times,’ which the GRAMMY Awards described as “the most ambitious work in Makavely's career.” It revisits the essence of “organic beat music” that Makaya established in his 2015 debut album ‘In the Moment,’ and further developed in ‘Highly Rare’ (2017), 'Where We Come From' (2018), and ‘Universal Beings’ (2018). Makaya reconstructs his live recordings into his unique sound world through editing, overdubbing, and post-production at his home studio in Chicago. The compilation of these four EPs, ‘Off the Record,’ is not merely a collection of tracks but a documentary work celebrating the creative and collaborative moments of music that could only have been born from being present in that space.
PRAED return to Discrepant, after their 2017’s entry Fabrication of Silver Dreams (CREP44).
Known for their signature blend of Egyptian Shaabi, free jazz and improvisation, the Lebanese duo behind PRAED - Raed Yassin and Paed Conca - now assemble a full orchestra for the second time taking the music to a deeper, rooted level.
Following their 2020 release Live in Sharjah, also under the PRAED Orchestra! moniker, the duo now revisit their unique blend of Arabic heritage and free jazz sensibilities with an album that keeps pushing further into strange and unexpected directions.
The Dictionary of Lost Meanings is just that, seven fully composed pieces and large-scale improvisations, performed by an expanded ensemble of musicians from across the globe. The result is dense and playful, unpredictable but familiar, a record where Arabic rhythms and microtonal melodies collide playfully against electronics, warped vocals and orchestral textures.
It’s less about genre than about memory — like tuning into a radio station broadcasting from somewhere between the past and the future.
PRAED continue to blur the line between popular culture and experimental music in ways that feel both grounded and completely their own.
Dutch composer Casimir Geelhoed presents an LP of music at the "intersection of overstimulation, introspection and fragility" via B.A.A.D.M.
"With Processing Music, Dutch composer and electronic musician Casimir Geelhoed offers a compelling meditation on sound transformation as a metaphor for psychological and emotional processing. Operating at the intersection of overstimulation, introspection and fragility, the album unfolds as a deeply immersive and personal exploration — one that invites the listener to inhabit a space of their own projection, memory and reflection.
Rather than imposing a fixed compositional structure, Processing Music follows a bottom-up approach, allowing form to emerge organically from the interaction of sonic materials. Digital signal processing is not used here as a mere technical tool, but as a poetic device: transformation as narrative, delay as memory, distortion as tension. Through slowly eroding loops, gently collapsing textures and shifting layers of timbre and space, Geelhoed crafts a delicate sound world that is charged with friction.
What may at first seem abstract gradually reveals an emotional core. The album evokes the suspended time of a largo, the layering of memory like an excavation, the psychological tension of perceived spatial expansion. These are not literal themes, but associative keys to a music that operates in a distinctly human sonic language.
Emerging from a series of live performances, Processing Music retains a performative sensibility: the music breathes, transforms, and invites attention to nuance. It slowly unfolds a landscape shaped by the subtle interplay between structure and dissolution.
Casimir Geelhoed has presented performances and installations at festivals such as CTM, Sonic Acts, Rewire, Fiber, SPATIAL, and Aural Spaces. He studied computer science, composition, music technology, and sonology in Amsterdam, The Hague, and Utrecht."
With Michaela Melián's LP music for a while, a-Musik is releasing the first album by the visual artist, co-founder of F.S.K., and solo musician since Monaco, which appeared on Monika Enterprise in 2013. While her last releases, Electric Ladyland (2016), Music from a Frontier Town (2018), and Tania (2022) were created as part of exhibitions and sound installations, music for a while is Melián's fourth autonomous LP, characterized on the one hand by her unmistakable dreamlike sound along the interfaces between dark chamber music, solemn ambient techno, and cinematic sound art.
As with her previous albums, there is also a wonderful avant-pop cover version—this time of the track “My Other Voice” (1979) by the Sparks. On the other hand, music for while, whose cover is adorned with Melián's photographs of the clouds above her new home of Marseille, spreads a comparatively ominous mood – one that is nevertheless appropriate given the circumstances in 2025 – thanks in part to the sedate, almost ticking drum sounds of co-producer Felix Raethel. Once again, the multi-instrumentalist, supported by Ruth May on violin and Elen Harutyunyan on viola, weaves her recordings of various string instruments — cello, guitar, bass, and zither — into fascinating, lurching, looping, and almost hypnotic soundscapes, but atonal synthesizer sounds in tracks such as “traverse benjamin” and “märchenwald” open up the music to electroacoustic and experimental music. The concluding cover version of Irving Berlin's “they say it's wonderful” (1946) rounds off one of this year's most impressive releases in an incomparably groovy and melancholic way.